I haven't written in a long time.
For once, I am finding it hard to express myself in words. Perhaps because it is the rawest feelings that are the hardest to express.
My life has been frustrating lately. It has been for a while. But I try to hide it, of course. I try to laugh it off. When everyone says they feel sorry about the way things are at home, I tell them I know God's got it under control.
And I do know. I know without a shadow of a doubt that He has some kind of plan here.
But sometimes I just want to bang my fists against the wall and scream, "WHAT IS IT?"
Because I sure as heck can't see it right now.
Before Evan came home, my home was my "happy place." It was safe, comfortable, filled with joy.
And as an idealistic person, I had built up huge hopes of what it was going to be like when Evan got home. Everyone would be happy, Levi and Evan would play together all the time, and our house's joy would double.
Oh, how those hopes came back to haunt me. Oh, how they crushed me. The first few weeks of Evan being home was just as I'd imagined it. We were all in a sort of daze, disbelieving that she was really there in front of us after waiting so long.
But poor Levi. His little world was turned upside down. As he's mostly nonverbal, he has no way to express what he's feeling. So he did what probably anyone in his situation would do. He got violent, aggressive. Mostly towards Evan.
And the next months were filled with this uncontrollable chaos that no one in our family could have ever expected. Months of hitting, spitting, pushing, yelling. We saw behavior therapists, we saw attachment doctors, but no one could deal with everything. Levi has behavior and attachment and special needs. It's hard to find a specialist in that narrow of an area.
And I watched my hopes get slammed to the ground one after the other. There was not the happily ever after that I had been expecting. There was no Evan and Levi playing together happily. And even more than that, my home was no longer my safe place.
My home was a place of chaos. Where disappointments hit me head on. Where everyone else was so stressed out that it automatically made me stressed out. Where none of us knew what to do.
And the deepest hurt of all of it was the loss of my best friend. My Levi. Where had that happy, joyful little boy gone? The little boy who would dance with me? The little boy who made silly faces in the mirror? The little boy who gave kisses to random people? Where did he go?
It's getting better, but slowly. Inch by inch. Month by month. We see glimpses of the old Levi now. Times he'll laugh his silly laugh. Dance around. Make us all go to sleep so he can yell at us to wake up.
But for the past few months, I've just had this sadness. Every time I get in my car to head home, I don't expect my happy house anymore. It could be hitting and spitting and yelling and stress. It could be happy dancing and singing. But it's not likely. And my hopes have been dashed to the ground too many times for me to want to build them back up again.
These words are hard to write. It's hard to come to terms with the sadness and the pain that seems to have settled over my heart. This perpetual hopelessness, like a rain cloud over my head that I can't seem to shake. It's hard to talk to people about my family, my home, because I want them to remember what it was like before. I don't want them to see Levi as he is now. Because I know the old Levi's in there, it's just gonna take him awhile to come out.
I know God has a plan. I know He does. Oh, but I'd really, really love to see it.